The Comfort in His Arms
by firstadream
Summary: RE-POST! "There's only one bed..." Brennan has a nightmare and Booth is there to comfort her. Some good, old-fashioned, B&B loving. Enjoy!


"_**Is there only one bed there?"**_

**Okay, so this is a slightly random story that stemmed from a comment Cam made in the season four episode, "Double Trouble in the Panhandle". It basically revolves around the age-old scenario of "What would happen if we put Booth and Brennan in the same bed together?" Answer? Some good, smutty fun! Enjoy!**

"There's only one bed."

"Yeah, Bones, I made that observation about two seconds after walking in here."

"So what should we do?"

Booth sighed and eyed the tiny, cramped space that was their FBI-issued trailer. "I could sleep on the floor," he said.

"You could," Brennan said slowly. "But that would probably be bad for your back."

He nodded and didn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, probably."

"I could sleep on the floor," she said.

He nodded thoughtfully and eyed her out of the corner of his eye. Ten minutes ago, he had gone outside to give her some privacy so she could change into her pajamas. He had been hoping for a baggy, flannel, completely un-sexy getup, but instead he had been treated to more Bones than he'd ever seen. She was wearing a white, spaghetti strap tank top that he could see her nipples through if he looked. Not that he was looking. At all. Short, red boxers and pink, ankle socks that were somehow completely endearing and kind of a turn on at the same time completed her ensemble. He was wearing what he always wore to bed: a t-shirt and boxers. He had never felt self-conscious in it before, but right then, standing next to Bones at the foot of a double bed in a twelve by six trailer, he had to work to keep from blushing.

"Nah," he said finally, working to keep his voice sound casual. "I mean, we're both professionals—_partners_—with absolutely no romantic involvement. I think we can sleep in the same bed. Right?"

"Right," she said, nodding. "It doesn't mean anything."

"No, of course not," he agreed. "I mean, we're just sleeping."

"Right. Sleeping."

"Nothing else."

She let out a long breath, her gaze drifting up to his. "What else would there be?"

He swallowed. "Nothing," he said. His voice had dropped a few decibels without any decision on his part. "There's nothing else."

She nodded and he nodded and wondered if she had always smelled this good. "Ready for bed?" she asked.

He turned away from her and faced the bed. "Yeah, I'm ready."

She nodded and climbed onto the bed, settling in on the left side under the covers. He quickly followed suit, getting in on the right. He pulled the covers up to his chin. "Good night, Bones," he said quietly.

"Night, Booth," she said, just as quietly. She was quiet for a moment then said, her voice joking, "Or should I say 'Buck'?"

He laughed and felt some of the tension melt away. "Way to keep in character, Bones."

"Well, you know I take my job very seriously."

He smiled. "Yes, Wanda, I know."

He heard her chuckle in the darkness. Felt her shift onto her side, closer to him. "Booth?"

"Yeah?"

She was quiet for a long time. He listened to her breathing. Felt her body heat drifting against him and into him under the blankets. She sighed and shifted away from him, onto her back. "Good night."

He turned his head towards her and studied the silhouette of her face in the dark trailer. "Night," he said.

—BB—

She was singing. Singing a song she used to love. Booth was there. Angela too and Hodgins and Cam and Zach and Sweets, but they seemed far away. Booth was close to her. Watching her. Smiling. It made her happy. Made her sing louder, with more abandon. She could see his heart beating in his chest. Could hear the steady thumping, the familiar rhythm that meant life and love and Booth. Her Booth.

But then there was a bang. A shot. It shattered her voice and the music. Made her stop. Made the world go still. There was Booth at her feet. There was the blood seeping from his body. She bent over him. Pressed her hands to his gasping chest. "Booth," she said. She was crying. "Booth, please don't leave me. Booth, please don't go." She looked at his fading eyes. Felt his stuttering heart. _"Booth."_ Her voice was high and desperate. _"Booth."_ His blood was warm in her hands. _"Booth."_

"Bones! Bones, wake up!"

"Booth," she whimpered, her eyes closed tight. "Booth."

"Hey, Bones, wake up. I'm right here." He lifted his hand to her cheek, brushed the hair from her forehead. She sighed and leaned into his touch. "Hey, babe, I'm right here. Just wake up."

She finally opened her eyes and focused a bleary, disoriented gaze on his face. "Booth?" she breathed, like she was surprised to find him there next to her. "Am I dreaming?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore."

She moved closer to him. Her hands drifted up to his chest. "You were dead," she whispered and then she started to cry.

He felt his chest ache as he drew her into his arms. He didn't know she had nightmares. She had never told him. He imagined her, alone in her apartment, crying out for him and waking up alone. He hated that he couldn't be there when she woke up, couldn't be there to comfort her every single time she was scared. He pulled her closer. Kissed the top of her head. "It's okay," he said softly, soothingly. "You're okay. Just breathe. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

She closed her eyes and listened to his voice. She let the words blur together and simply focused on the timbre of his voice, the rumble in his chest as he spoke, his steady breaths, in and out, in and out.

She didn't know how long it took her to stop crying, for her breathing to even out. She just knew that he stayed with her and held her and didn't ask any questions. "Thank you," she breathed, knowing she should be embarrassed, but just feeling loved instead.

He nodded against her head. His hands moved in broad circles against her back. "You're welcome," he told her.

He waited for her to pull away and make her excuses, to pretend like this was nothing, like they were nothing, like every touch, every look meant nothing. But instead she simply nestled closer to him, her face pressed to his chest, her fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. "Do you get nightmares a lot?" he asked her.

"It used to be worse," she said softly and felt his arms tighten around her. "It used to be every night."

"I'm sorry," he told her and she knew he was.

She lifted her head to look at him. "It wasn't your fault, Booth."

He shook his head slightly, lifted his fingers to her chin. "I'm sorry for not being there."

Her lips turned down ever so slightly. He could still see a shimmer of tears in her blue eyes. "I was fine."

"I'm still sorry."

She smiled. "I know you are."

He nodded and pulled her closer. Heard her sigh as their bodies came together, locking together like puzzle pieces. "I'm glad you're here," she said like she was confessing some deep secret.

"Me too," he confessed right back.

He rested his hand against her waist. Slid it down over her hip and thigh. Past those little red boxers and onto her bare skin that shivered and tensed at his touch. He kissed her neck and her jaw. Heard her sigh and melt against him. He shifted his hand back up to her waist. Slipped it under her tank top. Pushed the fabric up until it was bunched under her breasts. He gently pushed her onto her back and bowed his head over stomach. Pressed his lips to the soft, smooth skin.

She stretched languidly under his touch. Sighed and moaned as his lips shifted upwards and trailed along the edge of her shirt. She lifted her arms over her head and he wordlessly laid her bare, tossing the shirt aside.

It felt odd, surreal almost, to be lying there, half-naked in Booth's arms. To feel his hands and his eyes against her body, carefully cataloguing every curve, every breath, every touch. But it also made sense to have it happen like this, as a comfort, consolation. Protection. He always had a way of making her feel safe.

"You're so beautiful," he told her hoarsely, sliding his hands up her sides. He brushed his thumbs against the sides of her breasts and she arched upwards, feeling her nipples peak in anticipation. But the touch she expected, the touch she _needed, _didn't come yet.

Instead, he moved back down her body. Hooked his thumbs around the edge of her panties and pulled them down her legs. His breathing was just as ragged as hers as he trailed his fingers along the soft flesh of her inner thighs. She arched into his hand, her head falling back, as he pressed two fingers inside her, his thumb brushing against her clit. "God, Booth," she breathed, half moaning, half begging.

He grinned cockily, but she was too far gone to be annoyed. Her bones had turned to mush. Her insides had taken on a delicious, achy feeling that began to spread outwards as he increased his pace, setting a rhythm that left her breathless and disoriented. He continued to stroke her, his eyes fixed on her flushed face, the way her body arched toward him, until he felt her tighten around his fingers, her body going still for a split second, before she relaxing. She fell back against the sheets with a deep sigh, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

He moved back up her body, his knees resting on either side of her hips and pressed his lips to her breast. She moaned softly as he swirled his tongue around her nipple. "You're gonna kill me," she sighed. She sounded like she was underwater.

He shook his head. Pressed his lips to the valley between her breasts. "I don't think so," he said.

She smiled and reached between them, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. "I do," she said. She traced the defined muscles of his chest and stomach before dipping lower and running her finger along the waistband of his boxers.

He groaned and bowed his head forward, pressing his lips to hers softly. "I think you're the one whose gonna be the death of me," he told her and sat up, pulling his boxers down off his legs.

She began to reach for him, but he caught her hands and pulled her up into a sitting position so they were facing each other. He leaned forward and kissed her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, his hands trailing lightly down her arms. He wrapped his arms around her and slid her towards him. "I'm in love with you," he said suddenly, hoarsely. His voice was soft and filled with conviction. "I'm so in love with you."

She smiled and kissed him and he lifted her above him. Held her over him for one still, slow-motion moment. Gazed up into her beautiful face like he worshipped her. When he finally lowered her onto him, she let out a low, shuddering moan. Felt him fill her. Felt the stretch, the delicious ache between her thighs. Her legs wound around his waist, holding him close. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed their bodies together. Her breasts flattened against his chest and she let her head fall forward to rest on his shoulder.

He stayed still for a long time, buried deep inside her. Then, slowly, she began to rock against him, her hips moving in tight circles, creating a delicious friction that made him groan. He gripped her hips as she shifted against him. Rubbed her nipples against his chest, her lips at his neck. It didn't take long until he felt her tighten around him, felt her tense and then relax, his name a sigh on her lips. He followed shortly after, but didn't move just.

They stayed like that for a while, locked together—him still inside her, their bodies wrapped around each other. Hugging, almost. He ran his hands up and down her back, pressed light kisses to her face, ran his fingers through her hair. She relaxed against him. Rested her chin against his shoulder. Felt more loved, more comforted than she had in a long time.

She finally pulled away from him and lay down on her side. He settled in behind her, pulling her back against his chest. He kissed her shoulder. Felt the warmth of her body against him. "Go back to sleep, Bones," he whispered, his voice gravely and comforting. "I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

She nodded and nestled back against him. "I'm glad there was only one bed," she told him, her voice soft and laced with sleep.

He chuckled. "Me too, Bones. Me too."

** Like it? Hate it? Either way, please press that magical little button down there and tell me what you think!**


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